Currently watching “Adyashanti: Healing the Core Wound of Unworthiness” in the Self-acceptance summit from Sounds True (hurry, only a few days left! – There will be an Encore day probably). Adyashanti says something which is an eye-opener to me: people who experience not-enoughness think they are the only one.
I think that. I think that I have this special not-enoughness which is even not-enougher than other people’s not-enoughness. And obviously I see the result of that in every detail of my life. I am fat, grey, ugly and old so I am not good enough, people treat me bad, so I am not good enough, I am not in an intimate relation so I am not good enough. I do not even dare to write that because that in itself proves that I am not good enough. And I really really want to add that blablabla-everybody-I-know-has-bad-relations-and-that-I-do-not-understand-them-putting-up-with-that-shit-blablablabla in order to make me feel better. So I am trying to balance my not-enoughness by upping the not-enoughness of others. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ
I write dark, searching, often angry and moaning posts. I do so because I want to not write Facebook-like posts. I want to show the unedited version of me. There are a lot of reasons for that, one is that I need to be 100% honest(like?) with me because addiction is a disease of non-truth. There is another aspect to it which pops up now: I am angry at the world for showing only the good sides of things. I find that unfair. And… I have grown up in a family where feeling bad was not allowed in a sort of ‘Aaaw, but that is not necessary dear’ kind of denial. That, even though I believe my mother in a lot of years did not feel well for even one minute. She actually said so much. She was nauseous all the time for years on end. There was no specific physical reason, looking back I think it was continuous stress and mostly fear of my father. Later she admitted that suicide was on her mind on a daily basis for years. Children know that. I knew it. I tried to save her. Did not work. Or maybe it did. Not sure. When we spoke about it she mentioned that she knew I knew but that she did not want to have it real because that would be too horrible to bear. She felt shame, guilt and insufficient as a parent. Not enough. She drank in order to ‘deal’. Not like crazy much, but still enough to turn aggressive or sad. And her body could not deal with it well so I can not imagine she felt well. :-/ At some point she quit, I believe when she was diagnosed for the 3rd time with cancer.
The memory of those years puts fear in my body. Lately I learn every day about why I thought drinking was a good ‘solution’ to what was going on in my life. All this unmentionable stress and anxiety in our family, floating freely, well more like solid grey masses to work my way through. And everybodies’ escape patterns. My mother turning ill ‘so’ she could not be accountable, my brother not participating in the family and turning emotionally cold, withholding himself. Me resisting everything and trying to fix my parents one day and then fighting them the other day when I could not manage, what (?) anymore.
Currently trying to look at these feelings as ‘feelings’, as ‘ships that pass on the horizon’. Doesn’t work (yet?). They go straight to cell level and create stress and this continuous state of ‘threat’ there. My brother always says I am too sensitive (gosh…) but he creates the same-ish environment in his own home with his stressed out reaction to anything big or small. He has been overworked for years and only now he’s at home 100% with a burn-out. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Which in itself is good for him, I hope he can work things out.
I am happy that I quit. But I say that more because I need to try the feeling of that statement. Ha! The other way around: sooooo glad I do not have an alcoholic drink standing here, eeeew, the nausea! Yuck! Ok. I AM HAPPY THAT I QUIT!!!! Yay! ๐Ÿ™‚
A woman who loves herself would have gone to bed way earlier because she wants to treat herself to a lot of sleep. With hopefully no nasty dreams. Lot of revealing dreams, ones which sort of let loose the dirt / trash / nasty memories locked up. Like my subconscious is taking out the trash. ๐Ÿ™‚ Sounds funny, is not. :-D. In the morning I sometimes remember only remember tiny bits, seconds, minutes. Sometimes I remember a dream which I have perceives as 5 minutes. The feelings they leave behind are well, like having slept in the subconscious sewer. Parts memories, parts the whole shebang of feelings surrounding those memories. If I can say one positive thing it is: very informative.
For my records: I believe I dream more because I drink less tea at night so I tend to sleep through the night more. Or possibly because I took some Schuessler salt at some time, dunno which anymore, which ‘fixed’ something.
Ok, the cat is calling me for bed. ๐Ÿ™‚ โค
Wishing you a good evening/day!
xx, Feeling
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Misery – what’s in it for me?

Sorry for the rhyme. Wondering here why I hang on to misery. Thought writing about it might give me some insight. So yeah; heads-up; this can either be a brilliant post on finding a way out or another boring post on how I am stuck. Or something in between. Dunno. But then again, one never does before one tries. ๐Ÿ™‚

In between: following the Self Acceptance Summit by Sounds True. It’s free, online, good quality, I really appreciate Tami Simon’s style of interviewing, the questions she asks are always the things I would like to know. So I am thoroughly ‘enjoying’ myself being explained why I have difficulty with self-acceptance. Trying to find a way to self acceptance because I know my criticism does harm to the world and I don’t want that. Yet again and again it happens. I believe it is based in me not accepting myself but I can imagine that people who are at the receiving end of it do not really care for that explanation. :-/

Went to see my GP yesterday. She is also a homeopathic doctor so when I opted the choice of homeopathic medicine I found in my intuitive Google search she laughed and said: “Excellent choice! That particular medicine is for people who have no curtains in their house, who have no way to close themselves off or lock others out. They have an openness which can not be closed.” At which I replied that to me, in my vanishing twin idea of life; that is where my brother was supposed to be. I am only whole and closed off when he is there. And he is not.

So sadness, I actually wholesale in it, specifically lately. My spunk and mojo have left me and all I do is moan endlessly. I have been on repeat for several months now. It irritates me. Sometimes I appreciate it as ‘trying to research the field’ and not finding the answer. When I quit I built a file with questions I had and I just searched for answers. Books, internet, doctors, anybody could bring me answers and new ways of looking at stuff. Then I accepted that I did not have a clue what I was doing but felt into the subject of addiction and kept an open mind. No answers just meant that I had not found it yet. Why don’t I do that now? I don’t because I want things to be FIXED! NOW! I want that sort of for myself, I also fear that if I do not fix myself and my job I will not be perfect and lovely and be able to stay.

I always think I have to leave. Those are the two main starting points / assumptions in my life: “I will have to leave anyhow.” variations to that is “Nobody really likes me.” and “No matter how nice it looks it will be broken entirely / bring immense sadness soon as it always does.”

While watching the Self acceptance presentation of Tara Sophia Mohr on ‘Quieting Your Inner Critic and Navigating Feedback’ I wondered: what do I fear to lose when I would not be sad?

Do you ask yourself questions like that? I mostly trust the answers which come. The following pops up: I would have to step into life again and risk being hurt.

I think I have been hiding from life for a long time now. First because I was addicted and ashamed. Secondly because I was ashamed about having to give up my unfortunate business and well, I always have a reason to not dare to do things. By the way: my friends will laugh at this statement because without any exception they find me the most daring person in the world. But theoretically that could be because I select friends who are less daring. Possible. Possible.

I just took the homeopathic medicine. The doctor read the first 3 lines of the book she had on the subject: people whose main emotion is sadness, issues with alcohol and seem to lack an outer shell. Well, that would be me. She gave me a high dilution of it and I just took that.

It is always strange to take homeopathic medicine in high dilution. If, from the 2000 or 4000 (can’t remember) different compositions one chooses the correct one, it somehow feels as if cells shift in the body, energy starts taking other paths and the intelligence of the cell wakes up. Not sure if that makes any sense.

What pops up now is that there is something going on at work. The other day, about 1,5 week ago I told the boss’ wife to quit speaking and joking about my sex-life. She is a colleague, luckily not in the same office space but I meet her often enough. Too often. She says things like “You really need to get laid, it would be good for you and better for all of us here.” She has repeated that 3 together with several ‘tips’ on my sex life. She also made 18 demeaning comments about my appearance since the beginning of this year. 18? Yes. After the experiences with my last boss I started to count. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Somehow it does not matter where I go, people seem to think they are entitled to invade.

Well, I was having a conversation with my favorite colleague, the one I spoke with when I had a bad case of anxiety at which I started shaking and my body tried to faint away. I confided with her on the insults of the boss’ wife and -speak about the devil-ย  in she walks and says without any introduction; “You really need to get laid!”

I reply in an icy voice: “You really need to call my former boss so you can both speak about my sex life.” (They know each other).
“WHAT?! Did you have sex with her too?!”
“No, I am informing you in a sarcastic way that I am not interested in your comments on my sex life. I would appreciate if you can just keep them to yourself.”
“Do you have a sex life?! Tell!”
“You seem to think this is a joke. I am not joking. Please keep your comments on my sex life to yourself. You are invading my privacy.”
“Ooh, you can invade my privacy anytime when it comes to sex!” (smiling)
“I can not because if I were to reply to you and really tell you what I think I would put up the sex life of my boss for discussion. I can not and do NOT WANT TO do that. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
“Oh, well, haha, pffff….” (laughing uncomfortably and leaving the room)

At which I tell my astonished colleague: “This is what I mean.”

And obviously the diminishing follows; “Aah, well, she is always like that.”

“Yes. AND I just told her to not invade my privacy. She did not really seem to care.”

So as always, the unbelieving, the enquiring if there is a possibility to blame the victim. Why can’t people just take these things seriously? The thing is, I can take the joke, most of the time. But not when I am having dreams of fighting off abuse at night about people forcing me to ‘get laid’ and then in day time people tell me to. And I can’t even explain this because that is an invasion of my privacy too.

I want this to stop.

The boss’ wife came to do some work a the floor where I have been the past week. She started saying something about sex and then “Ooh, I am not allowed to speak about that with you! Haha!” With a wink-wink, notch-notch to a male colleague present. I explained her again that I could not reply to comments like hers without interfering in my boss’ life which I do not want. She did not care, just got like teenage girls do.

Next time I’ll break her back. Well. Not really. But those who know what happened with the boss in my former workplace could possibly imagine the disgust, fear and anger I feel. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ

So, on “I will have to leave anyhow.” and “Nobody really likes me.” and “No matter how nice it looks it will break and bring enormous sadness soon as it always does.”

How can it be that in 2 jobs I meet the same queen bee bitches? She is the prettiest woman in the whole company. She has EVERYTHING going for her. She is famous within the industry, has a tremendous career, owns a beautiful company and there she is; trying to, what? tease? a fat, old, grey haired women with bad teeth who is trying to re-establish her life.

Hmmm, writing this all down does not really help in letting go of misery. Gheghe.

Fuck. Lately I get desperate in how to deal with work and life. This is one of the reasons. I don’t feel safe at work. I can’t speak to my boss anymore the way I used to because I don’t trust him anymore because he is married to her. My biggest strength was speaking up, now that is gone and I can feel myself withering away. My work is falling behind and I have no little strength to fix it because I doubt myself because I am in the same situation again as I was exactly a year ago. Also I do not want my boss to think that I use personal reasons to not perform.

So, about letting go of misery; how to? Lately my only answer has been to cut my wrists and be done with.

Funny how the book Seven weeks to sobriety mentions that people who do not quit fully (alcohol, drugs, smoking AND sugar) have the same suicide rate as those who do not quit alcohol. So OBVIOUSLY there is something in going all the way that beats not going all the way. Something in not eating sugar which beats eating sugar. Ah yes, my hobby; complaining about sugar as a dangerous drug while eating chocolate and dates. And then speaking about myself demeaning(ly?) while doing so. On could also argue that those who quit everything were more determined to live in the first place. No sรฉ. Or they are having more transformative experiences because they go all the way and not use replace addictions to keep themselves unfeeling, unaware, unconscious. What I do know is that my body does not process sugar well which is exactly why I eat it. Nope, no typo’s in that sentence. I could add the word ‘probably’ possibly. Not sure.

Sigh, back the letting go of misery. How to? I also think of less destructive things like burning all bridges and travel around the world. That in an addicts mind is less destructive. Could be the same as ‘doing a geographical’. Probably is since what I want is to not be me and I guess I will still be me. But who would take care of my cat. I am thinking it would not be nice to her to have to move house again. As long as I still have a cat I do not have to worry about me.

Back to letting go of misery: why can’t I just ‘let her talk’? Because sometimes I have no walls up and if I had not had years of training of hiding my vulnerability and a grandiose skill in lying I would fall apart every time she makes a demeaning comment.

I really just wrote that down: a grandiose skill in lying. Either that or grand skills in dissociating. Now there is some truth. I have always said I can not lie. But the truth is parts of me can lie very well. About how I feel about something, not letting see the hurt and the confusion because that sets me up for another attack. I experience the world as a very unsafe place and my system / brain / whatever does not want to accept that is has become safer. Then again, the work situation is not really safe. And neither was the one before. And neither was the money less – work less situation before that. Neither the drinking phase before that. Hmmm, maybe… I should learn to not be miserable. ๐Ÿ™‚

There have been moments where I could ‘unremember’ the hurts and for 2 seconds ‘not find them important’ – or not be ‘attached’ to them. How does learning unattachment differentiate from dissociating? Looking up more on dissociating. Bwaahaha, finding definitions which tell me I dissociate fully always. Nah. Can’t be.

Back to misery: how to let go. I think I have an attachment to it because that is how I was made before being born and it just feels familiar. Since it is repetitive behaviour it obviously feels more rewarding than anything else. And now I totally diminish the fact that I have lived in a house with a depressed mother who was incapable of caring for me since my 8th birthday. One who, before my 8th birthday thought of me as ‘too much’ and ‘needs to be less her in order to deal’. Who needed to diminish me in order for herself to survive. She had troubles with my cuddliness, sexuality and outgoing personality. I guess nothing changed; getting into trouble with women higher in the hierarchy about sex.

Back to misery and more to how to let go. I am trying to let go of this dark cloud of misery which has been surrounding me for a while and it makes my body react instantly. I feel unsafe if I were to let go. The misery shapes me, keeps a shield around me, keeps me sitting up straigth-ish. I feel directionless and unsafe when I try to let go. I also feel way more flexible and lighter. But I cover that up immediately with the reaction: it will go away, they will break it, they always do, it always does. Reverse that and I am saying: I use misery as a direction thing, as a compass and as protection from harm. I think I also use it not to be seen. This mist between me and others. The 10.001 words I place between you and me. Not always words of connections, sometimes I get the idea that I speak and write so much because I want to build a barrier? I always think I am hiding in plain sight. People never believe me when I say I am scared because they would be too scared to even mention it. Ha! I am scared and brainless. ๐Ÿ˜‰ Or brave. ๐Ÿ˜€ Or blunt. Or trusting too much. I think parts of that are true.

So, back to misery and how to let go? Dunno. I am tired. I’m going to bed. It is 1:45 here and that is way to late. Have been getting up at 4:45 this week for early shifts and I should not try to reverse that in the weekend. A woman who loves herself, would love herself and be in bed already. ๐Ÿ™‚

Maybe the solutions is to replace misery with nice experiences, as long as it is not possible to let go. And somehow that sounds like replacement addiction. And somehow my attachment to misery fits the definition of ‘hanging on to something which is destructive’. The other day, on the bike I had a few seconds of letting go… and then I quickly returned to holding on because I could feel this blaze of psychotic fear come up – or at least what I associate with psychosis. Mary O’Malley says that consciousness does not ‘just happen and then be there to stay’. She says it comes with an insight, and then leaves, and comes back, possibly to stay longer, just to leave again and so on. That is how I experience well, experiences like this.

I am off to bed. If you are so brave to have read through all of this… thank you :-).

Wishing you a nice weekend.

xx, Feeling

Went to see the GP

Went to see the GP. Things aren’t going all too well. Darkness surrounds me during the day and during the night my dreams take me to revisit abuse in the past. It is not that I ever really forgot what happened, it is ‘just’ that I drank the weight, the impact of it ‘away’. And now they come back to be, what? Understood? Trying. Sleep has always been my safe place. Now it becomes a not so safe place.

Walked into the practice, literally a tsunami of depression hits me from the back of the building where the waiting room is. Very much a WTF experience. I sit down at a large coffee table and diagonally across is a girl of about 23-25 years. Her depression is so intense it is palpable. She has an appointment with the GP before me.

I enter the GP’s room after her.
“Hello, how are you?”
“I thought I had problems, after seeing that girl I know I am fine.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because her depression is so intense that I could feel it when walking into the building.”
“Yes, she is in a bad state. So, how are YOU?”

Blablablablabla…. but I am glad this happened. Not nice for her, she lives in no-man’s land. But a good, good lesson for me. ๐Ÿ™‚

I am happy that I quit. No matter how nasty things are. I have 3 days off. Another appointment set in 2 weeks where I asked her to help me with sugar addiction and sorting some other physical stuff out. I don’t have to do anything, but I can try and see what I can do.

A woman who loves herself would go watch an episode of Master chef. ๐Ÿ™‚

Have a nice evening/day. ๐Ÿ™‚

xx, Feeling

Free online summit on Self-acceptance / dealing with the inner critic

Hi,

I ‘spammed’ this in here before but I want to mention that the free online summit on self-acceptance has started today.

Self acceptance leads to less projections and less critical behaviour towards others (hence my interest :-/, much to learn there) so… finally to a better world!

I am making some tea and let’s see what it brings. ๐Ÿ™‚

I am happy that I quit. I am going through a very rough patch and it is tough. Life has not been so tough since before I quit drinking – so blรจgh. I did however realise that I have EVERYTHING in house to ‘fix’ me. To work things out. But my desire to do so leaves me.

At which moment I thought… stuff it all… I’m gonna do it my way. What can I do? I can not change myself now, but I know homeopathy can help me, so lets see where Google takes me. 1 Search and 3 clicks on a website took me to a vid of Mr Vithoulkas who has a vid on a certain homeopathic medicine which starts with “these people are not closed, they miss a layer”. Which are exactly the words I would use to describe myself. Not all of it fits – but I’m gonna go with it anyway.

Visiting the GP this week. Work issues combined with re-visiting memories of my youth have brought me to the edge of what I think I can bear. Let’s see what I got, it is time to work through this. This is exactly the point where I have stopped developing, as in ‘always stopped’. It sort of feels like ‘sink or swim’. :-/ Blรจgh.

I am happy that I quit. In a sort of obliged way. The thought of drinking has crossed my mind. I’m thinking there is a danger where I go over the top with thinking ‘I don’t want this life anymore’ and then stepping back into ‘ooh, if it is that bad, I might as well drink because that is a better ‘solution’. Trap number 457. Overdo the one feeling as to make it ok to drink because that is less bad. I do not physically feel like drinking, I do not have urges, it is ‘just’ that my mind is setting traps which, if I were to follow them, would lead me to a bad place.

Addiction is a spiritual misunderstanding of life, at first drinking was a survival technique but ha, as with every shortcut, it started to work against me. That wish for a short-cut is still there. I somehow ‘feel entitled’ to because I have this weird, disfunctional, emotionally handicapped personality. Ha. Well, yeah, poor me. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Hello underdog :-). Self-acceptance. Try it in a sentence today! ๐Ÿ˜€

Hope you are having a nice, sober day!

xx, Feeling